


they will surely sing of us

by djelibeybi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Book canon compliant, F/M, Post LSH, also it's fuck ronnet connington hours, no plot just talking and kissing, really just almost 3k words of nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi
Summary: Since childhood she had dreamt of songs being sung about her, but these were not quite the romantic verses she had imagined. Then again, nothing in life ever seemed to turn out like her dreams.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 61
Kudos: 264





	they will surely sing of us

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another post LSH fic from yours truly. If some parts sound familiar it's because it's kind of a rewrite of the first draft of my other fic "no choice", so the scenario is the same but it plays out differently. And also because my one brain cell can only write different variations on the same idea over and over again. Enjoy!

_“He licked the honey from her hair! The bear, the bear and the maiden fair!”_

The room was warm and she was so very tired. From below her, she could hear strains of drunken singing, floating in and out of her consciousness as though she were half-dreaming it. It was not quite loud enough to disturb her; in fact, the ebb and flow of it was almost soothing, like an odd kind of lullaby.

_“My bear, she cried, my bear so fair!”_

She was so very tired. Every part of her ached. They had ridden all day as though they were being chased, desperate to put the remains of the Brotherhood as far behind them as possible, and she was covered with cuts and bruises that she had not been able to tend until they arrived at the inn. When had she last had a night’s sleep? Probably not since the night she had found Jaime at Pennytree, and lured him away with a lie. Though she had not slept well that night. Her guilt had kept her awake.

_“The bear, the bear and the maiden fair!”_

Her eyelids felt so heavy; they were starting to close. Sleep was pulling her under at last. Gratefully, she sank into it.

The door flew open.

“Seven hells, wench. You won’t believe what they’re saying about us down there.”

The drowsiness fell away from her like a snatched blanket, and she sat up, wide awake and furious. “Jaime! What are you doing in here?”

Looking contrite and slightly drunk, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Jaime said, “Oh, were you sleeping? Forgive me, my lady.”

Brienne wrapped her blanket around herself. She could not really afford to be angry with him, she knew. It was a miracle that he was even still here. He had not yet said anything about her betrayal, but it hung unspoken between them at all times, turning the air thick with tension.

“This is my room,” she reminded him, in a more level tone. “You’re supposed to be next door, with Pod and Hyle.”

“I cannot take another second of Hyle Hunt.” He sat down gracelessly on the end of her bed. “I’ll sleep on your floor. We’ve been in far more intimate situations.”

She flushed, remembering harsh voices taunting her. _Kingslayer’s whore_. “People will think –”

“That we’re fucking. Yes, I know. That was what I was about to tell you. I took your maidenhead after I saved you from the bear, did you know that? That’s what they’re saying downstairs. Very colourful, the way they tell it.” His eyes glittered in the firelight, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. “I liked it so much I gave you a Valyrian steel sword as a token of my gratitude, and you used it to betray your liege lady, just as you betrayed Renly. Now the two of us are inseperable. The two kingslayers together. It’s quite sweet.” The way he was looking at her, like a cat surveying a mouse, made her feel hot in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. “I almost regret that it’s not true.”

She found her voice. “Did they say all of this in front of you?”

“Nobody seems to know me, thank the gods. You’d best keep out of the way, though. If they see us both together, I’m sure the penny will drop.”

“We’ll leave early in the morning. Before anyone sees us.”

He nodded. “There’s even a song. Would you like to hear it?”

“No.” She knew the song. She had heard snatches of it earlier, from downstairs, and had no desire to hear it again. _The Kingslayer’s whore, he gave her a sword, and told her to slay Catelyn Stark/Then he took her to bed, and took her maidenhead, for all maids look the same in the dark._ Since childhood she had dreamt of songs being sung about her, but these were not quite the romantic verses she had imagined. Then again, nothing in life ever seemed to turn out like her dreams.

“I wonder how that story got from Harrenhal to here,” Jaime said, almost to himself. “Red Ronnet, probably. Though it could have been anyone. The gods know these things spread like –”

Brienne went cold. “Red Ronnet?”

He looked up at her, surprised, then somewhat sheepish, or at least as sheepish as it was possible for him to look. “Yes. I met him at Harrenhal. He asked me if you fought the bear naked.”

Brienne wanted to fold in on herself. What was it about Red Ronnet Connington that still had this effect on her, even all these years later? The thought of him speaking to Jaime, telling him about the rose, made her want to cry. She turned her face away, unable to look at him. _Please, say he didn’t tell you._

“Pathetic little man,” said Jaime softly, and she knew that he knew. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, and she tried to hide them, angry at herself. _Such a stupid thing to cry over, after everything that’s happened._

She felt Jaime edging closer to her, though she refused to look at him. “You would have been a prize for a man like him,” he said gruffly. “I hope you know that, Brienne.”

“I know,” she muttered. “He hasn’t much land.”

“Not just because of that.”

She blinked, and risked looking up at him. The seriousness in his eyes took her by surprise. He cleared his throat.

“I broke his nose,” he said.

She stared at him. “What?”

“I broke his nose. I think I did, anyway. There was a crunch. Lots of blood.” His tone was flippant, but he could not quite meet her eye. He held up his golden hand. “It seems this does actually have its uses from time to time.”

“Why?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Because he’s a cunt. I don’t think anyone would dispute that. But perhaps I shouldn’t have. He’ll have another story to spout now. No wonder they’re calling you the Kingslayer’s whore.”

Her stomach swooped. Jaime had defended her to Red Ronnet. It was like a song. She had beaten him herself, in the melée, and it had felt good, but this felt better, far better. How many men must he have told that story to, and how many must have laughed? But Jaime hadn’t laughed. Jaime had hit him. Even Renly wouldn’t have done that. Suddenly she knew she loved him, loved him so much her heart hurt with it. She wanted to tell him.

Instead she said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” said Jaime. “I’ve done you a disservice, I fear. You’ll be the Kingslayer’s whore for the rest of your life.”

She could not bring herself to care. If that name was the price she had to pay for Jaime hitting Red Ronnet in her defence, she would gladly pay it. “I have been called worse.” When he raised an eyebrow, she said, “I truly have.”

He smiled. “All the same, my lady, it occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t sleep here tonight after all. I would not soil your good name any further.”

“No,” she said, a little too hastily, then blushed. “I mean, no, it’s all right. You can stay.”

She watched him as he began putting blankets down on the floor. Suddenly, she heard herself say, as though someone else were speaking through her, “There’s room in the bed.”

He looked up.

Her cheeks burned, but she held his gaze. “We’ve been in far more intimate situations,” she reminded him.

He ran his tongue along his lower lip. She willed herself not to blush any further. Then his eyes softened. “You’re far too good to me, my lady.”

She thought of Stoneheart. “I betrayed you,” she said quietly.

His eyes went to her neck, where she knew the mark of the noose was still visible. “You hanged for me.”

“I know, but—”

He shook his head. “Enough. I know why you did it. I was angry at first, but I can hardly fault you for it now.” He moved closer, and she shivered when his hand came up to trace the mark around her neck, his fingers stroking her skin. “No more guilt,” he said quietly. “You are the last person who deserves to feel it.”

She closed her eyes, wanting to sink into his words, wanting to believe them. She could not quite manage it. She opened her eyes again. “Jaime?”

“Yes?”

She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “You need to go back to King’s Landing. I have kept you away long enough.”

He moved his hand away. “I know. I’ll go soon.”

“Soon?”

“When you’re healed.”

“I am healed,” she reminded him gently. “I am not like to heal any further.”

He sighed.

“You don’t want to return,” she said.

“Clever wench.”

“Why not?”

“Cersei has been imprisoned. She sent for me to defend her in a trial by combat, and I burned her letter. If she’s still alive when I get back, I doubt she’ll be happy to see me.”

She stared at him. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s a long story.” He looked away. “Suffice it to say that she is not the person I thought she was. She has been lying to me for years.”

Brienne hesitated, unsure what to say. She did not understand Jaime’s relationship with Cersei, and usually tried not to think about it. They had certainly never discussed it before. “Was she… unfaithful?”

Jaime’s laugh was harsh. “Unfaithful? She’s fucked every man at court, to hear Tyrion tell it.”

Brienne winced. “I am sorry.” For all that she’d hated Jaime when they’d first met, his love for Cersei had been obvious.

He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. Forgive my crudeness. You’re right, though, I must go back. I need to get her away from Tommen, before she turns him into another Joffrey. He’s a sweet boy, but young still. Too young to rule alone. I hope to send her back to Casterly Rock, and get rid of all the snakes she’s surrounded herself with. She’s fond of Qyburn, did I tell you that? The gods only know why. He makes my skin crawl. And as for the Kingsguard, it’s pathetic. You should see them, Brienne. Much as it pains me to say it, Loras Tyrell is the only half-decent knight left in it.”

“And you,” she said without thinking, then felt embarrassed.

He smiled. “You flatter me. But I am little use with one hand. I’ve been thinking of leaving, to tell the truth. I’d be more use to Tommen in the West.”

She blinked. “You would give up your white cloak?”

He shrugged. “It never suited me.”

She wanted to disagree, but he kept talking. “Besides, it would leave me free to help you run around the Seven Kingdoms looking for Sansa Stark. Arya, too, if you think she still lives.”

As much as she liked the thought, she knew it would not happen. Even if Jaime did leave the Kingsguard, his responsibilities as Warden of the West would surely occupy all of his time. He would have to marry, she realised suddenly, and as foolish as it was, the thought was like a stone being dropped on her stomach.

“After you leave, we are not like to see each other again,” she said quietly. “Are we?”

Jaime smiled. His eyes were soft. “Why do you look so sad, my lady? Would it be so terrible, to be parted from me?”

She looked away, embarrassed and annoyed at herself. She hated when she forgot herself like this, when she allowed him to see her for the stupid mooning maid that she was and left herself open for mockery. She had become so used to him protecting her that sometimes she forgot she needed to protect herself from him too.

She felt his hand beneath her chin, gently tilting her face to look at him again. Reluctantly, she met his eyes, and was surprised by the intensity she saw there. _He is not japing._

“Brienne,” he said, exhaling. He looked suddenly, impossibly sad. “My Brienne.” His thumb came up to stroke her jaw, just below the bite on her cheek.

She held her breath.

She had imagined his kiss many times, but she could never have anticipated this. He kissed her gently, almost cautiously, as though she were fragile. Never once had she been treated as though she were fragile. She stayed frozen, not knowing how to respond, but he kept kissing her, soft yet persistent, until eventually she began to move her mouth clumsily against his. Encouraged, he pressed her closer, his stump against her back, his hand threaded through her hair. He was so warm and sweet-smelling and perfect and _Jaime_. Her head was swimming, all of her senses overwhelmed by him.

 _No._ Suddenly she was frightened. The feeling was too strong; if she gave in to it, she was lost. She pulled back abruptly.

Jaime opened his eyes and frowned. “Brienne?”

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. She turned her face away so he would not see them, but it was too late. “Brienne,” he said softly, moving his hand to her face to wipe the tears away. “What is it?”

She kept her eyes cast down, feeling stupid and miserable. “We can’t.”

“We can.” He kissed her again. “See how easy it is?”

“You know what I mean.” She edged away. “You have to go back to King’s Landing, and then to Casterly Rock, and I have to search for Sansa, and we will never see each other again.”

“Nonsense.” His tone was light. “We are the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth and we cannot be kept apart. All the songs say so. And I know how much faith you put in songs.”

She remembered something she had said to Catelyn Stark, a long, long time ago. “It is always summer in the songs. But it’s winter now, Jaime. And this is not a song.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “You’re mistaken, wench. It is most certainly a song. I heard them singing it downstairs.”

She felt like pointing out that it was the least romantic song she had ever heard, but she knew it was beside the point. Instead she said, “But we will part.”

“For a time.” He brushed her hair back from her face, caressing the skin behind her ear. “But when you have found Sansa, and I have taken care of things in King’s Landing, I’ll come back for you.”

She remembered her fever dream before meeting Stoneheart, where she had watched Jaime walk away from her. _Jaime, come back for me._ She felt a lump rise in her throat. “Will you?”

He kissed her again. “My sweet Brienne, I am starting to believe that you are the only person in this miserable realm who is worth spending any time with. Yes, I’ll come back for you.”

She studied his face. He meant it, she realised. There were still a thousand reasons why it could not happen, but at least now, in this moment, he meant it. That would have to be enough.

This time, she kissed him first, and he kissed her back, and then suddenly she was on her back and he was above her, pressing her down into the featherbed, his hand slipping under her tunic and finding bare skin and she was melting into him, thinking _I love you I love you I love you_ , and then the singing started up again.

_“The Kingslayer’s whore, he gave her a sword, and told her to slay Catelyn Stark…”_

They both froze, her hands tangled in his hair, his hand still beneath her tunic. Then Jaime started to laugh into her neck. She tried to roll away, cheeks burning, but he held her there, pressing kisses to her neck.

“I told you,” he murmured against her skin. “Famed throughout the realm.”

_“Then he took her to bed, and took her maidenhead…”_

She turned her face away, groaning. “I can’t do this if they’re going to sing about it the entire time.”

Jaime’s grin was wicked. “Think of it as a serenade.”

“I don’t – it’s not –” Her weak protests turned to helpless giggles as he continued trying to kiss every inch of what little skin she had exposed -- her face, her neck, her collarbone – while she squirmed beneath him in a half-hearted attempt to dodge his lips. “Jaime, Jaime!” He sucked a mark onto her collarbone, and her laugh turned to a sigh. “ _Jaime_.”

“Brienne,” he murmured before meeting her lips again, and the song was forgotten. “My Brienne.”

Much later, after he had fallen asleep and she was lying awake in his arms, wondering how long this dream would last, the singing started up again.

“ _They are kingslayers both, they’ve broken their oaths, and now they are never apart/They were doomed from the start, for the Beauty of Tarth has stolen the Kingslayer’s heart.”_

**Author's Note:**

> (That last line is so cheesy I'M SORRY! I'm not a poet ok!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr @djeli-beybi xo


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